“How?”
“I have implants,” Myers said, tapping his forehead. The teens didn't get it, but the Captain did. His eyes widened slightly.
“Implants. Can we get them?”
“If you sign on, or if you pay for a civilian doctor to install them, yes. But the civilian doctors who can do implants are all in Pyrax I'm afraid,” Major Forth said.
“Ah.”
“I've added a pier to the list of construction structures. Did your people let you know that we are going to be phasing in weather reports? Also Marine air search and rescue for ships lost or in distress in the area.”
“Really?”
“You'll have to get the weather report from someone who has a radio. And we can't receive a distress signal unless someone with a radio lets us know, but well, we're working on it,” the Major said, feeling a bit lame at all the provisions. It would be years, possibly a decade before radios became wide spread. Ships badly needed them though.
“Thank you,” the Captain said softly. “I've lost two brothers and an uncle to the sea. Knowing someone is at least willing to go look for them,” he shook his head.
“Well, part of the issue is knowing when a storm is coming so you can avoid it,” the Major replied. He pointed to a truss tower with a ball on top. The tower was over ten meters tall and mounted on a hill side. Antenna now dotted the mountain, Marine crews had set them up. At the very peak of the mountain another series of structures was being set up. “That's a Doppler radar. It tells us what the weather is around us for hundreds of kilometers.”
“Ah.”
“We've also deployed weather and communication satellites. Once we get the system finished we'll have satellite weather and communications, but also air tracking and global navigational aids.”
“That'll be nice.”
“We're still working on finding a civilian company to partner with to manufacture and market the civilian versions of the devices,” the Major said.
“Ah,” the Captain grunted. “I was going to ask if we could trade for them. I've got some fish and crustaceans.”
“I'm sure we can work a trade out,” the Major said, nodding.
It seemed though, that the idea was well received. Or at least food for much thought and discussion once they got back to their fishing village.
“I want to join. Where do I sign,” a voice in the back asked. As if the tide had suddenly pulled out, the sea of people around the lad parted. He stood there, nervous but seemingly brave.
“Lad,” the Captain sighed, now greatly annoyed. “You don't know what you're asking boy,” he said gruffly. “They can't use the likes of you!” he snarled, waving a hand.
“I can do it!” the lad said. “Give me a gun and I'll prove it!” he said, lifting his chin.
“Don't mind the lad. The boy's family had been killed when the pirates had invaded a year ago,” another boy said, the eldest of the group.
The Major studied the lad. He was tearful, grim but very determined to get his own back.
“Can you read son?” the Major asked softly.
The boy shook his head. “No sir. But I can follow orders, I can shoot. I can man a ship. One of those space ships might be harder, but I can learn.”
“You want a naval assignment? Son, you have to be highly educated, a spacer to handle something like that. Being out on the sea is one thing, being up there,” Myers shook his head.
“Then I'll be a shooter. A Marine. If you'll have me sir,” he said turning to the Major. He came to attention.
“You'll be in good company lad, we've got a class coming together. Several of them forming. One is made up of native Agnostan's like yourself. But being a Marine is hard.”
“You haven't sailed a ship then,” the Captain said, barking a laugh. He eyed the lad. “You really going to do this Joe?”
“I can do it sir.”
“If he can get through boot he can always put in for a transfer to the navy later once he passes quals. We'll see. We'll give you the same chance as everyone else. You pass the test and we'll sign you on. Fair?” the Major asked, holding his hand out.
“Fair sir,” the lad said, taking the hand and pumping it three times. He smiled a gap tooth smile.
...*...*...*...*...
The recruiting stations around the planet opened on Agnosta after their sixth week on their new home. Most of the recruits were raw untrained boys looking to do something other than be a farmer or lumberjack or fisherman. They wanted to step out, not follow in the same worn track as their ancestors had done.
Their education and health standards were severely lacking so he Major had the Gunny form a preboot class to train the recruits up to the very minimal standards. Major Forth wasn't surprised that the grim lad Joe was not only in the class, but he was doing well.
Gunny Schultz was put out by the change in plan and quality of the recruits, but he shut up and soldiered on grimly.
...*...*...*...*...
Jethro was present peripherally when the delegates arrived from the civilian population centers. Jim, Chumly, and George Custard were the leaders, having the most experience with the military personnel.
They toured the island, admired the changes and the progress the military had made. They were very admirable of the navy hospital. The Major met them and promised support when the base was completed.
“You mean it's not finished now?” A woman asked, looking around.
“Oh no ma'am, we'll be building the base for years. This is a temporary fire base. We will formalize it, build it up, and expand on it later.”
The Agnostan's looked around. There were sand bag structures everywhere. Many of the towers were covered with sand bags. The towers and other structures were made out of local logs with log and sand bag roofs. There was concertina wire on the perimeter. Stakes with claymore anti-personnel mines and bags of napalm were strategically spaced every ten meters apart just inside the wire. On the other side of the wire was a shallow trench, the dirt dug from that trench formed the berm the coils of concertina wire sat on. The woman looked down at a fire pit with a mortar in it. The mortar looked like a piece of pipe angled up with two supporting legs and a massive base plate. “Plumbing project?” she asked.
“No ma'am, short range artillery,” the guide explained with a wave.
“Oh,” she replied, blinking in surprise.
“Why the stakes?” a farmer asked. He pointed to the stakes with bits of cloth and numbers on them arranged in rows outside the perimeter.
“Range stakes sir. They let the mortar and fire support crews know where to fire.”
“Oh. It looks like you boys are ready for war. I hope you let us know if something's going to happen,” the farmer said.
“Well sir, it's partially in case of attack yes, but it's also good training. See our people are from Pyrax. Well most of them, a few hundred are from Gaston and other colonies.”
“I see. I heard a couple of our boys hopped a ship or two and headed to Pyrax to join you. A couple on that ship Destiny and a few on another ship that passed through after.”
“Yes sir. We thank you for them.”
“Don't thank me, wasn't my kin,” the farmer said gruffly. “You were saying?”
“Yes, well, a lot of our people are green. So this is training for them. Now they know how to do it, so when they go to other worlds, they can set something like this up.”
“Ah. I see now,” the farmer replied nodding.
“Not every world is going to be as nice as Agnosta. We've gotten word that the pirates have invaded several worlds. We will eventually be sent in to take those worlds back.”
The farmer studied the Marines slowly, then looked around. Slowly he tipped his hat back and nodded. “I reckon you're right. And I reckon I'll be damn proud of you boys for doing that. If no one says it, I damn sure will. Thank you.”
“We'll do our best to get the job done and free as many people as we can.”
“You do that. And do us a
ll a favor, come back alive,” the woman said nodding.
“We'll certainly try ma'am,” the guide murmured softly. “We'll certainly try.”
...*...*...*...*...
“So, you guys are into military equipment.”
“Yes, we are the military.”
“All new though. I don't suppose you'd be interested in antiques would you?” Jim asked, waving to the barn.
“It depends on what you had in mind,” Ris'ha replied, slithering in behind the human. He looked around with his multiple eyes, noting the holes in the roof, the birds in the rafters above, and the cobwebs. Everywhere cobwebs, dust, and tarps. There were rows of vehicles there, some he wasn't sure about. But in the back he noted a figure standing up. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked slowly, staring.
“Want to trade? There are a lot more where that came from. A lot more,” Jim said proudly. “I can hook you up for some injector parts for my Heely.”
“Deal.”
...*...*...*...*...
“Major,” Private Eric “Lurch” Sedge said coming to the door and rapping on the frame.
“Yes?” the Major asked mildly, not looking up.
“We've just received a call from the mainland. Someone wants to do a trade.”
“Do they now?” the Major asked, sounding disinterested. “What, they want a replicator?”
“As a matter of fact yes,” the Private said.
“Yeah right,” the Major replied with a sniff. This was their third 'trade request' since they had landed. “And just what do they have in trade?” He turned in his chair, sitting back and staring at the tablet in his hands. He turned just enough to block the sunlight coming in from the window behind him, thus reducing the glare.
“Suits and military equipment. And vehicles, sir” the Private said, now excited.
That got the Major's attention. He turned and cocked his head. The Private nodded, smiling. “You aren't serious.”
“Yes sir. Someone, a Private collector has been picking up pieces for decades. He died a few years ago and it's all been stuck. And sir, one of those vehicle people remembered and called Ris'ha who called me. ”
“How much?”
“According to the reports, about two dozen suits, maybe more.”
“Damn!”
“Plus some army tanks and a few other things. But everything's just been collecting crud and dust for centuries sir. They used some of the vehicles, apparently someone turned one of the tanks into a dozer until it broke down, but it's quite a haul. If we want it.”
“And they want a replicator?”
“I've got a list here,” the Private said, holding up a chip.
“Gimme,” the Major said, dropping his tablet and holding his hand up.
...*...*...*...*...
“How are we doing?” Riley asked his apprentice, back to the Tauren as he worked at the counter. He'd come a long way, he trusted Ox to work without supervision. The Tauren was as good as he was with a wrench. Better in some ways, he had a level of patience the older human armorer lacked sometimes. But he did have issues with tight spaces and his big hands.
“Almost got it,” the Tauren said, using a wire brush to clean muck away from the exposed knee joint. They now had another two dozen suits of various makes and models. Riley had pronounced them all repairable, with a bit of work and TLC. That remained to be seen. The good news was someone had practically coated some of the joints in axle grease. That had kept the metal from rusting, preventing exposure to air over the past seven centuries.
“Damn it, bent,” the armorer sighed, tossing the part he had been working on away. It was part of the shoulder assembly to the suit. It clattered on the counter noisily.
“Bent?”
“Yes, and the threads were crossed so I need to retap them. But the bend has everything messed up. I'm not sure if it's worth getting it straight,” he said, shaking his head. “Probably should replace it,” he mumbled.
“Is that the one the collector didn't want to part with?” Ox asked, still working on the joint. He picked up a seal puller and used the half circle end to slip in behind the seal and then leveraged it out of the hole. It crumbled as it fell into his hands. He frowned, running it between his fingers. “Seals are bad.”
“They all are. And yeah, this is the one. Once the guy knew it was radioactive he practically paid us to get rid of it,” Riley said.
“Radioactive?” The Tauren asked, looking up in concern. Spacers were ever aware of the dangers of radioactivity.
“Only a couple of rems. What's a couple of rems between friends?” Riley asked with a wink. The Tauren snorted. “I've already run it through a decontamination cycle. It's good now. Once we've broken her down we'll do it again to all the parts before we put her back together.”
“Ah.”
“What's the bearing trace look like?”
The Tauren studied it for a moment, using his enhanced sight and sense of touch to feel the cylinders. “Good, but some of the bearings have pitting and wear. I'm going to pull it and do a swap.”
“Save the old, we can rebuild. And you'll need the trace.”
“I know,” Ox said. He used the tool to pop the one centimeter thick bearing assembly out. Three tugs and it was out. “Well, that was easy,” he said in surprise.
“With the right tools it usually is.”
Ox looked the bearings over then checked the two centimeter long motor shaft. There was a bit of wear on the area where the bearings had touched, but not as much as he had thought there would be. “Axle needs cleaning.”
“So? Clean it!”
“Doing that. I'm going to replace the bearing in a minute.”
“Got the spare already there for you,” Riley said, waving a hand to the part as he wiped his hands clean with a rag. “Two dozen suits, four jeeps, two tanks, one SAM unit, a couple of ancient Ma deuces, a dozer, one engineering truck, a fire truck, and a hundred tons of surplus weapons and gear. Some of it in crates but most of it all tore up. Not a bad haul. What'd we trade for it? My first born?”
“I thought you gave that up when you saw Jethro's suit?” the Tauren teased.
“No, but I'd just about wanted to when I saw it. Fortunately no one demanded it,” the Sergeant replied with a snort.
“A replicator, some MRE's, solar panels, radios, survival gear, a couple engineering projects, and some credits. Oh, and a couple flights on a shuttle to orbit and a tour of the base,” the Tauren said.
“Shit, that all?” the armorer demanded. “That's cheap!” He shook his head. “I would have insisted on a case of whiskey and a stack of porno to go with it!”
The Tauren chuckled, still focused on cleaning the axle. When he had it down to bare metal again he did a quick spray paint to clean up any last pitting. The paint was a nanite polymer, it filled in the microscopic gaps in the finish of the metal, making it incredibly smooth.
He turned his attention to the new bearing assembly. He checked it over carefully before he installed it. Riley had slipped him an old part once to check him and make him double check his parts before he installed them. When it passed inspection he carefully put the assembly in the hole.
“Here,” Riley said, taking the old bearing trace and handing it to him. “Put it over the new one then tap her home.”
“I know,” the Tauren said. He used a deadblow to tap the assembly in gently, tapping all around the race guide as he went to keep it even. When he heard the sound of metal on metal contact change he stopped. He pulled the old trace guide away and then rubbed grease over the bearing, lubing it up. He had to use a brush, he couldn't get his massive fingers in the small hole.
Once he was done with that he put the new seal in, tapped that in as he had before, then carefully picked up the motor. The motor was a centimeter thick at its center, but it tapered to less than two millimeters thick on the edges. There were three connections, one for the hydraulic line, one for the wiring harness, and a third for the controls.
He slipped the spline on the axle carefully over the bearings, being careful not to touch them and scuff up the bearings or the splines. Gently he turned and pushed on the motor until the splines locked into the gear that was built into the lower calf frame. When he was locked in he nodded. He turned the motor axle freehand and watched the calf move.
“Good,” Riley said as he bolted the motor home and then wired it into the new wiring harness. “One down, one to go on the other side, then the other leg. Getting there!”
“Yeah.”
“Don't sound so thrilled,” Riley said, using short hand. “At least this one has good teeth. Three of the legs have broken teeth. That's going to be a pain in the ass to fix.” He sat on a stool. “What's on your mind?”
“We're keeping what, two dozen suits right? What about the eleven we can't or won't rebuild? What about them?”
“The museum pieces?” Riley asked. “What about them? Most are ready for the scrap heap. Unless we use them for training aides.”
“That's an idea.”
“I meant target practice,” Riley said.
“Not what I had in mind. I know we do a lot of rebuild, recycle, and reuse, but what about using them to teach our people about them? Or put them on display in the visitor center?”
“Well, that's better than wasting a suit there, not that the Major would.”
“We... we could make replica parts! Even replica suits! Use them in the engineering classes, stick them in the museum, you know!”
“Plastic?” Riley asked. The Tauren nodded. “Could work. Write it up.”
“I will,” the Tauren said, getting a faraway look. He felt a hand tap him and then grab his right horn.
“After you're done here,” the armorer said.
“Yeah,” the Tauren said with a sign. He attached the flexible hose to the motor then to the rigid line embedded in the thigh.
“Make sure you use copper washers on either side to prevent leaks,” Riley said. “And the screw for the caliper points up.”
“Yup, got it,” Ox replied patiently.
Chapter 24
Gunny Schultz took on Jethro, Letanga, Clive Bret, Asazi, and other Marines serving as junior drill instructors for the new class of boots. Valenko took on duties in boot administration since his squad was split up temporarily to either fill in for other borrowed DI's or on detached duty like Ox in the armory.
Jethro: First to Fight Page 45
